


House of Woods

by onlyasdark



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:31:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6233437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyasdark/pseuds/onlyasdark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lexa Woods – at age 25 – beat the incumbent and was elected to the House of Representatives, she simultaneously because the most admired and feared woman in the country.  And, if Clarke is to be honest, Lexa is the most fascinating woman she's never met.</p><p>Or</p><p>The politician AU no one asked for in which Lexa is a badass, Clarke is mesmerized, Octavia does as Octavia wants, Anya wants Raven, and Pike is still an asshole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Devil in Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, wonderful people!
> 
> I'm still a little sad the show ended last week but I'm glad to see we are all still kickin'. 
> 
> Here's a little something I have been sitting on for months. I just want to see Lexa as a politician, ok? Someone cast ADC in House of Cards, please. I need this for reasons. 
> 
> Reviews and kudos are always appreciated and suggestions are taken into account. 
> 
> Anyway, hope ya'll enjoy it!

When Lexa Woods – at age 25 – beat the incumbent and was elected to the House of Representatives, she simultaneously because the most admired and feared woman in the country. 

No one believed that the young, naïve and inexperienced Lexa Woods could ever beat the maturity and background of Arker Maggie Yu. 

Except she did, by a landslide.

The youngest minority whip in history unified the politically fragmented Grounder party and gave them someone to rally behind.

Clarke pushed the olive in her martini back and forth as she watched the woman closely.  She commanded attention and respect where ever she turned.  It's no wonder Clarke's mother loathed her.  Representative Griffin spoke of her on occasion, rarely fondly, oftentimes critically.  For the Arkers attempting to hold onto their majority in the House and Senate, Lexa was a nuisance - to say the least.    

The world of the political elites is a small, deeply interconnected one and while Clarke may have never spoken a word to Lexa, she has – of course – heard tales of her ruthless pragmatism and coldness.  

To Clarke though, as she was looking at her, Lexa was striking, stunning, sensational.

She watched as Congressman Pike, an old friend of her mom's, approached Woods.  He was nothing if not dangerous to the party image and, Clarke and many others would argue, to the country.  He preyed on age old ethnic tensions and used hatred to rile up the party faithful.  Pike alone couldn't be blamed for the polarization in Congress but he sure as hell egged on the division.

He's joined by Bellamy, who Clarke can no longer look at without apprehension.  She hasn't spoken to him in months, not since he decided to leave Kane's campaign and join Pike's.  He tries to catch her eye but she avoids his gaze easily.    

“I didn’t know the devil wore navy blue." It’s meant to be cheeky and clever but Pike comes off sounding like an asshole, which doesn’t come as a surprise to Clarke anymore.  

Just the sight of him, patronizing and demonizing Lexa makes Clarke feel uneasy. 

To her credit, if Representative Woods feels any discomfort, her face doesn’t give it away. 

“Congressman Pike, always a pleasure,” she says, her eyes cold and lips pressed in a tight, polite smile.  She offers a hand, which he pretends not to see.   

“Soon to be Senator.” He corrects her, voice dripping with arrogance and Clarke grimaces in second-hand embarrassment.  How the Arker party – how her own mother – can support a man like Pike is beyond her understanding. 

“Time will tell,” the woman responds calmly to Pike’s dismay, his attempts to dishevel her clearly coming short.  

Clarke catches Lexa's eye then and just the sight of her green eyes causes Clarke to straighten her back.  She offers the Congresswoman what she hopes is a sympathetic look and Lexa takes it as her chance to excuse herself from Pike.  He protests but she says it's urgent and starts towards Clarke.  

Clarke has to remind herself to breathe under Lexa's piercing gaze.  She is about 10 feet away when a woman with high cheek bones and light hair wraps a hand around her bicep and whispers something in her ear.  Lexa’s eyes widen and she nods, meeting Clarke’s eyes momentarily to offer an apologetic smile, before allowing herself to be led away by Representative Bennett.

./././././././././

While she only agreed to come to the fundraiser as her mom’s plus one, in order to stay on her good side, her mother is no where to be found. 

Representative Griffin uses her daughter more than she’d like to admit.  Clarke knows the only reason she was asked to come was so Abby could spew the media bullshit about how her and her daughter are inseparable.  That would be the furthest thing from the truth.  Their relationship is civil, at most amicable, but after the death of her father, her relationship with Abby has never been the same. 

Clarke waits around for another 30 minutes, watching fake smiles and handshakes transpire between people she’s positive hate each other, before she decides to leave the conference center and hit up the hotel bar. 

She shoots her mom a text telling her she'll meet her at the valet at 11:00pm.  

Leaving, as it turns out, is not a mistake because there she is.  

Sure, Clarke has heard about her, seen her face, and even been in the same room as her more times than she can remember.  Sure, they shared a smile before but she’s never seen Lexa like this, never in black skinny jeans and red heels; never with braids woven into her hair.  

It’s a stark contrast to the navy blue pant suit she donned just an hour ago. 

And she looks, dare Clarke say it, rather normal.  Just a hot girl sitting at a bar.  Clarke doesn’t know what possesses her to walk over to her and take a seat on the empty bar stool next to her. 

“Representative Woods.”

“Dr. Griffin,” the woman responds, turning her body towards Clarke, “what can I do for you?” She smiles brilliantly and Clarke almost loses her train of thought.  It's not the same forced smile she offered Pike, it's real.  

“For starters, you can buy me a drink.” Clarke doesn’t know where the courage to be flirtatious comes from but she rolls with with.  At that Lexa smirks and flags down the bartender who immediately drops what he’s doing and rushes to greet them.

"On my tab, Jasper." She murmurs to the boy and then nods at Clarke, allowing her to order for yourself.  

She orders a margarita and then turns her attention back to Lexa, who is watching her intensely.  

“Are you drinking straight vodka?” Clarke wonder aloud, pointing to the glass in the younger woman’s hand.  It was a rough night for all but Clarke's not sure it was rough enough of a night to warrant drinking vodka straight.  

Lexa lets out a low chuckle, "Just water. I don’t drink.”

And while Clarke wants to ask why and something along the lines of _doesn’t your job drive you to drink all the time,_ she doesn’t and Lexa seems grateful for that.   

“I don’t think we’ve ever officially met,” she says instead and offers a hand, “I'm Clarke.”

“Lexa,” she responds, taking her hand gently.  Her fingers are long and her skin is soft and Clarke doesn't want to let go when the warmness of her hand touches the coolness of Lexa's.    

“This is an interesting lobbying technique, though not a novel one.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Congresswoman Griffin has for weeks been pushing me to vote in favor of her Agriculture bill.  She isn’t having much luck," The woman explains, taking a sip of her water.

Clarke is dumfounded momentarily, then offended.    

“You think I’m talking to you because I’m trying to get you to vote for one of my mother’s bills?” She can't help but scoff.   

“If that was not your intention, I apologize.  You must understand, Clarke, not many people approach me for matters other than business.  Rarely matters involving…” Lexa pauses and looks her up and down with hungry eyes, “pleasure.” 

Her eyes take in every curve and contour of Clarke’s face, landing on her lips momentarily before meeting her eyes.

Clarke gulps and can’t help the chill that runs down her spine.  Lexa’s… well, she’s… she’s easy on the eyes, yes.  That’s what Clarke settles on, pushing other, less holy thoughts, out of her mind for the time being.  Clarke, after touching on the sad tinge to Lexa's words, figures she can forgive the woman for being presumptuous - or maybe rather cynical - just this one time.       

“First of all, I don’t do my mom’s dirty work and second I’m an Independent.  Grounder, Arker, I could care less.  The party doesn’t make the person.”

Lexa nods, seemingly appreciative and respectful of Clarke’s answer. 

“You'll forgive me then.  I presumed with your mother's ties to the party you'd be a staunch Arker."  She bows her head slightly before a slight smirk appears and she muses, "Pike is quite the catch though.”

It does not escape Clarke’s attention how she fails to refer to him as “Representative Pike.” 

“Are you going to challenge him?” Comes out of Clarke's mouth before she can halt herself.  It's an innocent question in itself and her intentions are pure, but she imagines Lexa will not interpret it that way.  

She bites the inside of her lip as her eyes meet Clarke's.  Their green remind Clarke so much of the North Carolinian forests she spent hours in with her father, back when he was still alive.  They're wide and they're alive and Clarke swears she's never seen a prettier shade of green before in her life.   

It takes Lexa’s phone beeping to break the tension and bring Clarke out of her thoughts.  She shifts back in her chair, understanding now how exactly Lexa seems to get her way professionally. 

“I’m waiting for a few…” she pauses and then murmurs, “friends.”  The word seems to sound unfamiliar in Lexa’s mouth but after it comes out, she nods to herself, seemingly satisfied with her word choice. 

Lexa leans back then, eyes leaving Clarke’s as she looks at her phone, then behind her shoulder.  Clarke follows her gaze and among the group of immaculately well-dressed people she sees none other than Octavia.  Clarke’s mouth momentarily hangs open before she regains her composure and shuts it. 

Octavia.  Octavia.  Octavia.

Octavia Blake in a tight black dress.

Octavia Blake with her arm looped through Lexa’s deputy chief of staff – Lincoln Kollmann.

Octavia getting drinks with Congresswoman Lexa Woods. 

Octavia getting drinks with Congresswoman Indra Silva and Congresswoman Anya Bennett. 

Lexa, Indra, and Anya: the infamous trifecta in the flesh.  

Octavia Blake is getting drinks with Grounders. 

Their eyes meet and Octavia looks between her and Lexa in confusion.  Her eye brows scrunch as she tries to make sense of the situation, and Clarke imagines her own face must look somewhat similar.  

“You’re more than welcome to join us, Clarke.  Maybe you will find yourself sympathizing with our cause." Lexa's voice is soft, almost hopeful.  

Clarke spares a glance at her watch and grabs her purse, "I promised my mom I would meet her out front by 11:00pm.  It was lovely to meet you, Lexa."  She spares Lexa a smile but refuses to glance in the direction of Octavia.  If Lexa notices, she let's it slide.  She offers Clarke a wave before grabbing her drink and strolling towards the group. 

She shouldn't be pictured or spotted getting drinks with a group of Grounders, not when her mother is vying for reelection.  She doesn't even want to image how her mother will react knowing Octavia, who she raised as her own, has been fraternizing with the "enemy."   

././././././././././

Lexa watches the blonde leave the bar over her shoulder.  Prior to their first conversation Lexa knew three things about Clarke 1) she was Representative Griffin's only daughter, 2) she was a doctor, and 3) she was incredibly beautiful.  Lexa decided to add another number to the list: 4) she had to see her again.

Anya, Indra, Lincoln, and their newest addition Octavia, chose a secluded booth in the corner of the bar.  Octavia looks nervous, her eyes still on the door Clarke exited out of.  

She's a bit reckless at times, has a difficult time following orders, and rarely deviates from her moral compass, but she's smart and loyal and Lexa can see her making a damn fine politician one day.  

“Why were you having drinks with baby Griffin?” It's Anya and of course it's Anya who would ask.  

Octavia looks slightly uncomfortable at the question and avoids Lexa's gaze.  She wonders how the two may know each other, if they do.  From Clarke's reaction, it's likely there is some sort of history between the two.  Lexa doubts Clarke would have fabricate an excuse and left the bar solely because of Anya, Indra, and Lincoln.  

She makes note of making sure to ask Lincoln about the connection. 

“I wasn’t, not really.” She answers truthfully. 

“Maybe you should be.” It's Lincoln now, wiggling his eyebrows comically, his arm around Octavia's shoulder.   

“She’s single.” Octavia adds, knowing very well Clarke would not be happy knowing Octavia is trying to pimp her out.  But hey, what are friends for?  It’s been months since Clarke got laid, let alone left the house for matters other than work.  

“Maybe I’ll ask her out to dinner,” Lexa shrugs noncommittally.  She was pretty, scratch that, the girl was gorgeous in a way that demanded to be seen.  The blue dress she was wearing only served to further bring out the color in her eyes. 

Blue, Lexa’s favorite. 

Then there was the problem of her being Representative Griffin’s daughter, not her biggest fan in Congress, to say the least. 

"Though I doubt Representative Griffin would like that." Lexa adds, grinning. This earns her a laugh from the table as Indra shakes her head in faux disapproval, smile on her lips.  

“Pike’s running. He made that fairly clear to me today.”  Indra speaks, directing the group off the topic of Clarke Griffin.  Lexa nods gratefully at the woman, who is the closest person Lexa has to a mother. 

“Who do we have?” Lincoln asks, taking a sip of his whiskey and for the first time taking his eyes off Octavia. 

Silence.

“No one?  We have no one to run against him?” Lexa asks incredulously.  She refuses to believe no one would want to run against the bigot that is Charles Pike.  She would have thought Indra or Anya would make the run; maybe even Lincoln - with their help - could claim his first seat.  He's kind, empathetic, one of the best people Lexa knows, and he would make a fine leader.  

It's Anya, who clears her throat.  She intertwines her fingers, puts her elbows on her knees and leans forward, eyes on Lexa's. “Lexa, the party has reached consensus.  We want you to run against Pike.”

Lexa's mouth goes dry and her eyes widen.  Senator Woods.  It has a certain ring to it.  She wants this.  She wants this for herself but it goes deeper than that.  She feels a strong sense of responsibility and duty to her people, to her country.  

Objectively speaking, Pike's rhetoric is alarming.  He's a loose cannon, not to mention a tyrannical racist.  

She nods and just like that the tension is gone.

“I’ll think about it,” Lexa responds, though she's already certain of her answer, and though Indra tries to interject, Lexa continues, “Now enough about work.  Anya, tell us about your date on Thursday.”  

Anya grins and leans back in her chair.  Indra sighs and Lexa's certain that she's already regretting her decision to join their little shindig.  

“Well, she's an engineer..." 

././././././.

Octavia stumbles in somewhat ungracefully around 2:00am.  Clarke is waiting for her.  She wasn’t going to be dramatic about this, she wasn’t going to sit up and wait for her in poor lighting, but her curious nature didn't allow her to fall asleep. 

Clarke has to give her credit though, Octavia’s being uncharacteristically quiet, probably most likely in an attempt to avoid Clarke.  

When Octavia walks into the living room and seeing Clarke sitting on the leather recliner she jumps, her hand covering her heart.

“Shit, Clarke.  What the fuck is wrong with you?  Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”  She raises her voice, her breaths coming in short, and Clarke is glad Raven is out of town for a conference otherwise Octavia would have without a doubt woken her.  

“Since when do you hang out with Grounders?”  Clarke asks without preface, ignoring Octavia's distress.  They’re nice enough people, sure, but when you’re raised an Arker, when your best friend’s mom is an Arker Congresswoman, and your brother works for the party, there are certain expectations that you'll also be an Arker.

“Since I’ll be working as Indra’s deputy chief of staff starting tomorrow.”  She raises her head high as she speaks and Clarke seems lost for words.  Congresswoman Silva or Indra, as Octavia referred to her as, is nothing if not aggressive toward Arkers.   

“What?” she starts lamely and then continues, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Octavia scowls, “Clarke, you haven’t been here.  I love you, you know I do, but I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation with you that lasted longer than 5 minutes and wasn’t about who was picking up groceries or take out.” 

Clarke nods.  

She hasn’t been present.  Between her residency starting and campaigning for her mother, she hasn’t had time to sit down and have a proper conversation with Octavia.  She hasn’t been helpful in finding a job, nor has she been available as a friend.  She kicks herself for that.  

“Does Raven know?”  

“Yeah.” Octavia answers, biting her lip.  She's hiding something more, Clarke decides then and there.  They both are.  Come to think of it, Clarke cannot remember the last time Raven actually slept in the house.  She puts that knowledge away for when Raven returns.  

“And Bellamy?”

“Not yet.  I don’t think he’ll be thrilled about it, you know him.  He’s an Arker through and through, God knows why.”  She says it with such distaste, such resentment that it catches Clarke off guard.   

“When did you turn Grounder on me, O?” Clarke ask weakly and regrets it as soon as the words leave her mouth.  It's her mother talking.  Clarke doesn't mean it, not really.  And now, especially now, with the rise of Pike through party ranks, she sees more humanity and logic in being a Grounder than an Arker.  

What has the Arker party ever done for Octavia, really?  They destroyed her mother’s career and drove her into a pit of depression she could not escape.  The Arkers took away the dearest person in her life.  The Arkers turned her brother into someone who rather follow the orders of a deranged man than follow his own conscience. 

“Maybe you should stop listening to all the bullshit the Arkers have been spewing you, Clarke.  The older Grounder party is dead.  And it seems the Arker party we once knew - good or bad - is gone as well.” Octavia echoes Lexa’s previous words before retreating into her room.  

././././././.

She's just about to lie down on the bottom bunk in the on-call room when she receives a page from the front desk.  She groans and momentarily considers throwing her pager against the wall.   If she's to be honest, these 48 hour shifts are not really working for her.      

Clarke drags her feet lethargically down the hallway and to the elevator.  She rests her head on the wall as she listens to the elevator's 'ding' as they pass every floor.  When she turns the corner and her eyes land on the front desk, she’s surprised to see a bouquet of freshly cut roses sitting on the counter.  Her heart races and she picks up her pace.

“Those are for you,” Harper grins as Clarke’s fingers wrap gently around the bouquet.  She brings the flowers to her nose and takes in their scent. 

“Hmm.” She hums, eyes closed.  She hasn’t received flowers, well, since her brief tryst with Finn 2 years ago. 

“Who are they from?” She asks Harper for some sort of indication but the girl shrugs in response.  Clarke has a hunch that might turn out to be nothing more than wishful thinking and refuses to get her hopes up.

Clarke’s fingers weave through the flowers, looking for any indication of who the sender is, finally landing on a small card attached to one of the stems.

_Allow me to further explain our platform?_

_\- Lexa_

Below her name is a neatly written number – her number. 

Clarke feels her cheeks redden as she detached the card and slips it into her scrubs. 


	2. Lavender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people. 
> 
> Thank you so much for the positive response! I've enjoyed reading all your comments. 
> 
> I am accepting prompts so if you have any suggestions, hit me up on tumblr or leave it in the comments. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and enjoy!

 

After changing her pants twice and her top at least four times, Clarke’s willing to admit she’s nervous.  Her palms are sweating and her heart is pounding and she’s been pacing for the past hour.  

It’s not her first date, she reminds herself.  She’s hot, she reminds herself.  If it goes poorly it’s not the end of the world, she reminds herself.

Her room is a mess with all sorts of articles of clothing having been thrown every which where.  She’s been looking through her window every 10 minutes since she got home at 5:00pm. 

Lexa promised to arrive at 7:00pm sharp and when Clarke looks out her window at 6:55pm, in front of her house, is parked - presumably Lexa's - black Mercedes.  She considers going down right then and there but Lexa said she’d text her when she arrived.   

When her phone receives a text at exactly 7:00pm saying "here," Clarke finds Lexa all the more endearing for waiting. 

She looks herself over in the mirror once again praising her red lipstick and the way her jeans hug her hips.   

“Where are you going?” A voice rings out behind her, just as she’s slipping her heels on.  Shit, just as she was going to get out unseen.  She turns around to see Octavia standing, with her hip propped against the counter and her arms crossed. 

“Just… no where. Out." 

“Are you going out with Lexa?” The girl smirks knowingly and Clarke knows there is absolutely no point in trying to deny anything.  Octavia has a knack for meddling in everyone else’s business, specifically Clarke’s.  If she wasn’t a politician, Clarke could have seen her making a keen detective.      

“No.” She replies shortly.

“No?”

“Nope.”

“That’s odd, I could have sworn her car has been parked in front of our apartment for the past 10 minutes.” Octavia muses with a wink, “have fun.”

./././././. 

Clarke almost falls over herself hurrying down the stairs.  When she opens the door all she can do is stare.  Lexa is wearing black on black: black slacks with a black button down.  Her hair is swept up into a loose bun and Clarke feels her heart starting to pick up again.  

She smells lavender. 

"Good evening, Clarke." Lexa speaks up first and though she looks composed, it's her eyes that betray her in the end, they’re jumping from feature to feature, trying to take in every aspect of Clarke, “you look stunning.”

She walks them over to the car and even holds the door open for Clarke in true chivalrous fashion.

Lexa's not a reckless driver but she does take that what she calls "calculated risks" and is "cautious dangerously.”  At every red light, she tries to sneak a peak of Clarke without being caught and while Clarke pretends not to notice, she does.    

Lexa takes her to a Brazilian steakhouse, coincidentally one her mother has been raving of for the past couple of months. 

“Reservation for two, Alexandria Woods.” 

Congresswoman Woods, of course.  Right this way.”  As soon as the word ‘Congresswoman’ leaves the woman’s lips, Lexa stiffens and holds her head up a little higher.  The hostess doesn’t notice and trips over her words and her legs, leading them to their table. 

It's easy; it's easier than Clarke thought it would be - talking to Lexa.

Clarke was prepared to tap into her political jargon but Lexa has yet to bring up anything political.  Her questions are filled with depth and more personal than Clarke expected.

"Why Med school?" 

"Well to begin with it’s sort of in my blood. My mom was a doctor before she ran for Congress.” And Clarke knows Lexa knows this but she listens intently as if she doesn’t, “But the real defining factor was when my dad died during surgery a couple years ago.  After that I swore I’d become a surgeon and fix everyone.”

"I'm sorry," Lexa murmurs gently and places a reassuring hand on Clarke's before pulling away. Clarke hates to admit she misses the contact as soon as it's gone.

“You can’t fix everyone though,” she’s smiling but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I can try,” Clarke responds, eliciting a laugh from Lexa, one she feels particularly proud of.  The sadness is gone and her eyes crinkle and her teeth show and she’s beautiful. 

"Why a politician?"

"It was never about being elected," Lexa shrugs, "It was never about holding public office. It was never about being a politician," she almost spits the word, "It was about the people. I wanted to help people. I wanted to make sure they didn't have to live like I did. Unfortunately, majoring in "helping people" isn't an option."

Clarke smiles then. She sounds so pure, so idealistic, so genuine it's almost startling.  She sounds so different than the power hungry Pike, so different than her own mother.  Lexa sounds so much like her father.

And it almost hurts.

"I think you are making the people proud." She responds and means it from the bottom of her heart, but the ‘live like I did’ doesn’t escape her attention. 

Lexa blinks and looks at her through hooded eyes; a smile spreads across her face.  Looking at her, Clarke noticed a slight cut above her lip that was poorly covered up by make up.

"What happened there?" Clarke asks, pointing to her lip.

"I got punched." Lexa responds almost indifferently.  

"What?" Clarke asks, eyes going wide.

"I do some fighting," Lexa explains, thanking the waiter for their food before continuing, "I box and do MMA in my spare time. Its cathartic."

Clarke shakes her head slightly, chucking, "No way. Are you not at all concerned you might have a black eye for your regular CSPAN appearances."

"I do my best to wear a helmet at all times. Anya is fairly good at reminding me."

"She does MMA too?" Clarke inquires.  She could see it.  Congresswoman Bennett is intimidation personified. 

"Does that surprise you?” She asks and when Clarke shakes her head, Lexa continues, “She's the one who got me into it." 

It's not a shocking revelation.  She can picture it rather vividly in her head - Congresswoman Woods and Congresswoman Bennett fighting it out after particularly brutal debate.  It's something she'd pay to see.  And Clarke wonders if the reason Lexa and Anya are always so calm and well put together is because they take out all their anger and frustration on each other.  

"How long have you two know each other?"

Lexa whistles, "I've known Anya since I was a kid. We grew up together.  Our families were close. She took me in after -"

She stops then, jaw clenching, and her grip on her utensils tightens, knuckles white.

She doesn't finish.

"Kind of like Octavia and I," Clarke supplies, "Growing up, the Blake siblings were always at my house." 

Lexa releases the breath she was holding, and visibly relaxes listening to Clarke tell her about Octavia.

She laughs when Clarke tells her about that one time she was forced to cut 7 inches off Octavia's hair because she got gum stuck in it.

Lexa tells her of the time Anya opened an umbrella in her face and she was forced to go to the hospital. She now has permanent nerve damage in her left eye.

Clarke tells her of the time she broke her ankle hiking in the Appalachian Mountains because she spooked when she saw a bear in the distance. Though, as it turned out, it was only a bear shaped log. Her father carried her down the mountain, all 4 miles.

It's light and it's easy and Clarke feels butterflies in her stomach every time Lexa laughs. She feels proud that she managed to make the stoic Congresswoman break her cool facade.

They exchange silly stories until the manager flicks the lights on and off.

“I’m trusting you with the aux chord,” Lexa wiggles her eye brows as though she’s entrusting Clarke with something sacred. 

Lexa quite vocally judges Clarke for her love of the top 40s at least half of the way home.  While Clarke admits to liking some Britney and Kesha - everyone secretly does, ok – she finally decides to shut Lexa up by exposing her to her true taste in music, influenced by her father. 

Lexa softly sings and drums her fingers on the steering wheel along to every Fleetwood Mac and Wilco song Clarke puts on and Clarke finds herself unable to look away. 

She tells Lexa how, when he was still alive, her and her father would sit together for hours, drinking beer, and listening to playlists they made.  They should sing at the top of their lungs until Abby came down and ordered them to bed.     

Lexa listens eagerly to her stories and Clarke's not sure anyone has ever listened to her like that. 

When they pull up to Clarke's apartment, to her surprise, she doesn't want to say goodbye.

"I enjoyed my time with you, Clarke.  I would like to do this again?" Lexa says hopefully, playing with her fingers and looking up nervously.

"Yes. I would love that." And with that Clarke leans over the counsel, and places a soft kiss to Lexa's cheek. The girl grins like mad and her cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink. 

"Goodnight, Congresswoman Woods."

"Goodnight, Doctor Griffin."

./././././././

Once she makes her way back into the apartment, her head spinning and her knees weak, Octavia's in the kitchen, sitting on the counter with a glass of wine in her hand.

"So? How was it? Spill." She pushes, grinning at the bewildered expression on Clarke's face. 

"Lexa is…" amazing, gorgeous, incredible, entrancing, ethereal, beautiful, kind, caring, "cool." She finishes lamely and Octavia bursts out laughing, seeing right through her. 

"Lexa’s incredible." Octavia says calmly and she seems so much older than Clarke remembers her.  The fiery and impulsive Octavia seems to have subsided.  Clarke wonders if this is a result of her new… friend group.  

“Are you and her chief of staff an item?”

“Lincoln?”

Clarke nods.  She’s never met him but she’s only heard good things.  He’s the kill them with kindness type, so different than Lexa, Anya, and most certainly Indra.   

“Yeah, since January.”

“It’s March.”

“I’m well aware of the month, Clarke.” Octavia snaps.

Clarke sighs and decides to let it slide that Octavia had a boyfriend for the past couple months and she didn’t know.  She kicks herself.  She should have been more present. 

“I’m sorry.”

Octavia sighs and - in untrue Octavia fashion - decides to throw her a bone, she continues, “I went to that New Years Eve party with Bellamy and Raven.  They decided to ditch me to go screw around and then Lincoln came and sat down next to me.”  She smiles as she remembers and though he’s older, Clarke finds herself approving of him.  He’s most certainly the most well-mannered and successful man Octavia’s ever shown interest in.

“He seems like a good guy.”

“Yeah, and he’s fantastic in –”

"Where's Raven?" Clarke asks, cutting in and changing the topic.  She knew very well where that was going. 

"She's at - She'll be back in an hour."

Clarke catches her slip up and waits for O to explain, "Where is she, Octavia?" Clarke asks, when Octavia doesn't answer, burying her face in her glass.

"Oh? What, did I say that? Did I imply I knew where she is? I have no idea where she is.  You know Rae, she does her own thing.  She could literally be anywhere but I wouldn’t know. I don’t know. Yeah."

././././././

Chapped lips kiss her bare shoulder as a muscular arm wraps around her waist, pulling her in closer.  She wiggles further into the embrace, relishing the feeling of skin against skin. 

Raven’s still not exactly sure how it happened, how she ended up in Anya’s bed for the first time, let alone the second and third, but it was more than a common occurrence now.    

They spent at least 3 nights a week together.  Sometimes only sleeping, sometimes not.  Raven sighs contently before placing a kiss to Anya’s forearm.  She grunts in approval.

Come to think of it, she probably has Octavia to thank.  It was Octavia that pushed her, begged her, ultimately forced her to come out with her and Lincoln.  Raven really should have known better than to agree to accompany them on any sorts of shenanigans.  

_“I don’t want to third wheel,” she argues weakly._

_“Oh, don’t you worry.  It won’t just be the three of us,” Octavia winks, straightening her hair._

_Raven imagines there’ll be a group of people when they arrive.  She figures it’ll all be Octavia’s new Grounder friends and she’ll have to excuse herself sooner rather than later.  Yet, when they arrive, it’s just Lincoln and one of the most attractive women Raven has ever seen in her life sitting at a booth.  Her smoky eyes highlight her high cheek bones and she has a stare that could send anyone running._

_It only takes minutes for Lincoln and Octavia to go missing, no where to be found and Raven swears this was al a set up.  She swears it was meant to be a double date, without her knowledge or – by the look on her face’s – Anya’s.   She’s absolutely not complaining though, not in any way, not even a little._

_Anya looks momentarily annoyed when she realizes Lincoln has disappeared but then turns her attention to Raven, buys her a drink, and asks her to dance._

_She’s sexy in a dangerous way, a way that sends shivers down her spine and an ache between her thighs._

_She is sarcastic and biting and matches Raven on every level._

_Raven doesn’t want to admit she’s enjoying herself anymore than Anya does, but they eventually agree share a cab back to the apartment.  Octavia texted her earlier saying she’s spending the night at Lincoln’s and Clarke is in the middle of her long ass shifts.  Raven counts 4 winky faces in the text._

_She expects Anya to kiss her when they get back to her apartment.  She expects her to push her against the wall and fuck her hard but Anya does none of that.  Instead, she places a hand on her cheek and leans in, kissing her forehead._

_“I’ll take the couch.”  She says, pushing her away playfully with a wink, and Raven doesn’t argue because maybe this is the first time in a while that someone has wanted her for more than her body.  Her chest tightens as she nods, grabbing Anya a bottle of water and an aspirin and settling it down on the table next to her.  She points out the bathroom and brings her a pillow and blanket before retreating to her room._

_In the morning, to her surprise, Anya is still there._

_“Good morning,” Raven grunts, shielding her eyes as shuts the blinds in the kitchen and grabs a coffee mug, “Coffee?”_

_Anya clears her throat before standing up from the couch and offering a smile, not a smirk, and rubbing the back of her neck._

_“I was actually hoping you’d let me take you out for breakfast.”_

./././././././

When Raven returns she's not alone. Clarke hears the laughter of another woman and perhaps if she were a good roommate, she would let it slide.  She wouldn't question Raven until after her... companion had left.

Right then and there Clarke decides she’s parched and needs water at this very moment.  She tells herself this is part of her being more present in her friends' lives.

And when she enters the kitchen she's surprised to find Congresswoman Bennett standing in her kitchen.  Just Congresswoman Bennett.

"Congresswoman Bennett."

"Dr. Griffin." Her grin automatically disappears and her posture shifts, eyes wide, "You live here." 

"Yeah and you're Raven's,” Raven’s what?  She’s not exactly how to continue, embarrassment flooding her.  She should have just stayed in her room.  Way to go, Griffin. 

"Yeah." Anya offers, saving her from having to continue.  Clarke thinks it’s more for Anya’s benefit than her own. 

She wonders if Anya knows about her and Lexa's date while taking a glass out of the cupboard and walking to the fridge.  If she does, she says nothing about it.  Silence settles between them long enough to be considered awkward.  Right then Raven decides to make her appearance, two bottles of Bud Light in her hands.

"Oh well, this is awkward. Looks as though you two have met."  She doesn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable by the situation and goes to stand beside Anya, offering a bottle.   

"Anya meet Clarke.  Clarke meet Anya." She waves, oblivious to the silent tension between the two of them.  Clarke shoots Raven a look while pouring herself water, muttering a ‘nice to meet you,’ and retreating to her bedroom. 

"Why didn't you tell me Clarke Griffin was your roommate?" Anya hisses in a hushed voice, straining her neck to watch Clarke walk into her room and shut the door.

"It never came up." Raven shrugs, "Does it matter?"

So she may have lied by omission.  She may have only brought Anya over when Clarke was working overnights but in her defense, Anya never asked if she had another roommate beside Octavia.

"No, it doesn't matter, not really.  It just would have been nice knowing that Congresswoman Griffin’s daughter lives here before I opened my mouth.” Anya frowns at Raven’s inability to see the fault in her actions. 

"Oh relax. Clarke isn't like that. She's not going to leak whatever you say." She rolls her eyes before settling down on the couch, setting her beer on the table, and beckoning for Anya to come join her. 

Once the woman concedes and takes a seat next to Raven, the younger girl leans over and whispers in her ear: “And she especially won't be telling anyone how I got you screaming my name.”

Anya feels the familiar warmness pooling in her stomach and she growls, pushing Raven back and climbing on top of her, “You’re really going to get it now.”

Raven squeals as Anya’s lips find her neck. 

././././././././

She’s alone again and she can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

On one hand, she no longer has to fake happiness and familiarity with her mother; she doesn't have to pretend she agrees with everything she says nor does she have to pretend to agree with all her policies.

On the other hand, she's had to thwart the sexual advances of 3 middle aged congressmen already and at least 2 staffers.

To be completely honest, the only reason she agreed to tag along with her mother was because she had hoped Lexa would be here.  To her infortune, Lexa has yet to be seen. 

It had been a couple, two to be exact, days since their – their… date.  Yes, Clarke decides then, it was a date.  And Clarke was having a difficult time going through the motions without the girl entering her thoughts. 

 _Just text her already._  Octavia’s voice echoed in her thoughts but she refused to be tempted.  Lexa, after she dropped her off, said that she’d call her.  48 hours later and she hadn’t received a phone call.  Given, Congress was in session and they had a vast amount of bills and issues on their agenda, Clarke did her best to remain patient. 

To make matters worse, Bellamy keeps looking at her like he's about to walk over and that's another confrontation she wants to avoid.  Unfortunately, it seems the universe has different plans because of course Bellamy is walking towards her.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"How are you?"

"Good. And you?"

"I'm okay." He answers, bring a hand to rub the back of his neck.  He’s having a hard time meeting her eyes.  And Clarke can’t help but wonder, when did they turn into this? When did they turn into people who could barely carry a conversation past "how are you?"

She misses him or rather, she misses who he used to be – not that she’d ever admit that to him.  Years ago Bellamy would have accompanied her to every single one of her mother’s political functions.  He would have dragged her out early and taken her to get drunk off cheap beer.

Her mother would reprimand them – of course – because she couldn’t have news tabloids writing about how Congressman Kane’s legislative aid was giving Congresswoman Griffin’s daughter piggy back rides in the middle of the night, downtown DC, drunk off their asses.  It was inappropriate and disgrace behavior, she would say.    

A cautious hand on her mid back and the sent of lavender brings her out of her thoughts.  Before Clarke even turns around, she knows who it is.  She feels the smile spreading on her face as Bellamy’s face automatically falls and his jaw clenched.   

“Good evening, Clarke.” She smiles, eyes only for Clarke until Bellamy clears his throat and the spell is broken.

"Mr. Blake." Lexa greets, offering him nothing more than a quick nod before turning her sights back to Clarke.  Clarke doesn't miss the air of superiority she seems to carry.  

"Congresswoman Woods," he responds respectfully albeit reluctantly.  He senses it – the familiarity between them – and Clarke knows he doesn’t like it. 

Lexa leans in, her breath tickling Clarke's ear, and whispers, "want to get out of here?"

She feels Bellamy's curious eyes on them.  Clarke gulps and before her mind can process the ramifications of such a decision, she nods, licking her lips.

“Goodbye, Bellamy.”


	3. The Force Awakens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! 
> 
> First off, thank you for the positive response! I'm really enjoying writing this so far and got some pretty exciting things planned. 
> 
> Here's the next chapter. Look for another update before Friday.

“Clarke,” she hears a deep male voice call just as they’re about to leave. 

Lexa’s hand drops from around her waist when they turn to see Pike.  He’s smiling and greets her with faux enthusiasm, pulling her into a hug.  She pats his back awkwardly, trying not to let her discomfort show.  He’s not happy to see her, not really, he’s using her to send a message to Lexa, who visibly tenses at the exchange. 

Clarke doesn’t miss the way the warmth leaves Lexa’s eyes and her gaze turns cold and sharp.  Her smile disappears and her jaw sets, her hands clasping behind her back. 

In an instant, she’s the personification of regality. 

“Ahh, Lexa.” He says, looking between the two of them suspiciously because of course it looks odd.  Of course, it’s unusual for the daughter of Abby Griffin to be in the presence of Lexa Woods, let alone leaving with her.     

“From my understanding you’re considering a run for my senate seat.”

Clarke sees the veins in Lexa’s neck flare as she tries to keep her composure.  She takes a threatening step forward, eyes never leaving Pike’s.

“From my understanding it’s an open senate seat.”  Lexa responds through barred teeth. 

Her eyes are fire and her voice is acid.

Clarke suddenly feels uneasy watching the two clash. 

“You will not take this away from me.”  He says lowly, dangerously and Clarke’s willing to believe Pike would do the unspeakable to win.  It sends a shiver down her spine.  To her credit, Lexa holds her own; she doesn’t back down nor does she flinch at the threat. 

“I already have.”

Clarke watches Pike’s hands curl into fists and he looks ready to lash out, ready to do something reckless. 

A somewhat sly smile appears on Lexa’s lips.   _Do it_ , Clarke feels Lexa’s eyes screaming.  She’s challenging him, antagonizing him, absolutely playing with him. 

She then feels a heavy hand settle on her shoulder and turns to see a towering figure.  He looks out of place amongst the glamour and glitz, with his long hair is tied into a pony tale and with tattoos covering his arms. 

The largeness of the man’s hand on Lexa’s lean shoulders makes her look smaller than she is.  And the sudden realization dawns on Clarke that Lexa is just a girl.

Lexa doesn’t seem to draw the same conclusion and a winning smirk graces her features.   

“Is there a problem here, Pike?”  His voice roars, loudly enough to turn some heads.  Pike looks away from them, without a doubt looking for Bellamy – looking for anyone to come to his aid.  When no one does, he raises his hands in the air in surrender and backs away. 

And while her intimidation tactic worked, Lexa’s steel gaze does not leave Pike’s. 

Clarke decides then and there to relieve the tension she only way she knows how – by walking away.  She snakes an arm around Lexa’s waist, ignoring the way she feels Lexa’s muscles tense under her touch, and shakes off the man’s hand. 

Lexa stands very still then and breathes in deeply, closing her eyes momentarily, and releasing all the tension in her body.  When she opens her eyes again, her face betrays no emotion.  Clarke imagines it’s some sort of compartmentalization technique. 

“Always a pleasure, Congressman Pike,” she says coolly.  Pike is still fuming, disgust present in his eyes as they jump between their faces and Clarke’s hand. 

“Goodbye, Uncle Charles.” Clarke says, feeling Lexa’s arm wrap around her shoulders, before turning them towards the exit.  She expects the brute of a man to stop them but he stands still, blocking them from Pike.    

Clarke hears someone call her name – someone who sounds distinctively like her mother – but she does not turn back and instead, hurries her pace. 

././././././

Lincoln, ever the gentleman, opens the door for her as they enter the hotel’s conference center.   

“Thank you for coming with me.  I know it’s not the most exciting thing we could be doing on a Thursday night.”  He says softly and sometimes Octavia wonders how such a kind person ended up in such a harsh profession. 

_I believe in a better way._

He’d always say and Octavia always admired him for it.  She admired him for the sole fact that the world – no matter how cruel, unkind, and chaotic – never tore away his idealism.  

“Of course,” She responds with a smile and leans up to kiss his lips softly. 

Back in the day, her Thursday nights would consist of her getting black out drunk – sometimes with Raven, sometimes with Clarke, sometimes alone. 

Once Raven landed her dream job, their nights out became a lot less frequent.  And once Clarke started her residency she was rarely at home and when she was, she stayed locked in her room, sleeping or watching Netflix.

Living with them, Octavia was always reminded of how young she was.  While they were off living their lives and working at their dream gigs or on their way to it, Octavia was lost. 

Abby, of course, gave her an internship right out of school but an internship didn’t pay the bills.  And the more time she spent with the Arkers, the more out of place she felt. 

It wasn’t until she met Lincoln that she was given a sort of purpose.

_“Can I buy you a drink?” He’s drunk, smells like cheap vodka, and not to mention at least 15 years older than her._

_She shakes her head and turns away, scanning the crowd for Raven and Bellamy.  In hindsight, she should have known better than to agree to spending New Years Eve with the two of them.  Clarke was supposed to be here but she was called into work because – to absolutely no one’s surprise – the hospital was a place of increased activity on NYE._

_She’s content on ignoring the man until she feels him grip her forearm.  She’s about to turn back to him and give him a piece of her mind before a large, muscular man grabs him by the collar and pulls him off the bar stool and onto his feet._

_“Now, John, you wouldn’t want your wife and two kids knowing you were harassing this nice young woman when you were supposed to working, would you?”_

_While his voice sounds friendly, his eyes are threatening._

_The man’s – John’s – eyes widen and he shakes his head ferociously before all but tripping over his feet and stumbling away from them.  Octavia is impressed to say the least._

_Tall, dark, and handsome takes a seat on the now open barstool and orders two shots of tequila._

_“What a dick.” He murmurs and as he does, the countdown starts._

_10, 9, 8…_

_“You alright?” He asks, motioning towards her arm and all she can do is nod.  She watches him, in awe, as the clock winds down._

_7, 6, 5…_

_He hands her the tequila shot and she takes it, her eyes taking in the tattoos that wrap around his arms and disappear under his black V-neck._

_4, 3, 2, 1…_

_“What shall we toast to then?” He yells as the noise level of the club rises and the confetti erupts from the ceiling.  He’s smiling.  It’s a brilliant smile, Octavia decides and finally finds her voice._

_“New beginnings.”_

“Is that Clarke and Lexa?” Lincoln’s voice brings her out of her thoughts and when she looks up she sees a somewhat disheveled Clarke quite literally dragging Lexa towards the far exit.  

She offers him a grin, “called it.”

./././././ 

“Clarke was supposed to be here,” Raven frowns.  She vividly remembered Clarke telling her that she would be at the American Diary Coalition social. 

Is this how she imagined she’d spend her night?  Surrounded by politicians trying to appease the diary industry?  Not really. 

She would have said no if anyone but Anya asked her.  While her – while Anya didn’t want to admit it, it was a big deal.  Anya, in her 5 years in office had never brought anyone to any political function, Raven checked.  She tried to sound nonchalant as she asked her but Raven saw through her guise.  She was nervous and she fiddled her fingers and how could Raven say no?

And here she was.  It wasn’t all that bad, not really.  She got to wear a long dress, there was an open bar, and the way Anya looked at her when she picked her up may have made it all worth it.  

“Lexa’s not here either.”  Anya said, upon returning with their drinks.

She saw Bellamy from a distance and he offered her a tight lipped smile and a wave.  He was on his way towards her before Anya wrapped a possessive arm around Raven’s waist and cast him a challenging look.

He decided against it then, veering off towards the buffet.  It was probably for the better but Raven still felt a pang of sadness. 

“Jealous?” Raven asks, mirth coloring her features.  She would rarely admit it but she loved Anya’s possessive side.  Sometimes she would purposely flirt or let someone get too close just to have Anya swoop in.      

“You’re mine.  There’s nothing to be jealous of.” 

“I’m yours?”

“Yes.”

“Are you mine?”

“Yes.”

It’s the closest thing Raven has gotten to a confirmation about the nature of their relationship and she grins, taking it.  They haven’t really talked about it – what they are – and Raven isn’t going to the one who asks. 

She’s not sleeping with anyone else and neither is Anya.  They don’t have time to juggle two or three different partners and while they haven’t labeled it, they sleep together, they wake up together, attend work functions together, they cook together.  That’s enough confirmation for the both of them.     

“I bet you dinner at Da Vinci’s that they left together.” She says, turning her sights back to her gal pal.

“No, Lexa would never –” Anya pauses, catching her tongue and thinking, “you know, on second thought, no. I’m not taking a losing bet.”

“Have you no faith in your little visionary?”  Raven mocks and Anya suddenly regrets all the times she told Raven of Lexa’s infallibility.

 _Lexa is a visionary._

_Lexa is brilliant._

_Lexa is married to her work._

_Lexa apparently leaves work functions with hot blondes._

“Fine.”

Anya looks around briefly before grabbing a random guy, walking by with a corduroy jacket and a notepad in his hands, by the bicep.  The glasses slide off his nose as he looks down and he pushes them up to see the culprit.  He gulps as soon as his unsuspecting eyes meet Anya’s piercing eyes.

“Representative Bennett, I – what can – you,” he stumbles over his words nervously. 

“First day?”  Raven smirks as Anya rolls her eyes.

Before he can respond Anya speaks up, “Congresswoman Woods. Have you seen her?”

He nods vigorously and steadies his glasses before flipping through his notepad.  He lands on a page and taps a finger on a paragraph in triumph.   

“Left with Congresswoman Griffin’s daughter about an hour ago after an argument with Congressman Pike.” She nodded and releases his arm, letting him walk away somewhat briskly. 

She wonders briefly what argument and feels suddenly guilty for arriving late.  She looks for Gustus, a member of Lexa’s personal detail, and sees him leaning against the wall by the bar; he offers her a reassuring nod and that’s all Anya needs. 

Lexa’s uncle was as protective of Lexa as she was, if not more, and if he didn’t see a reason to worry, she didn’t. 

Disputes with Pike were nothing new but the fact that Mr. DC Times had dedicated a paragraph to the incident did not sit well with her.  There was also the problem of her leaving with Abby's daughter.  One Titus, nor Indra, would not be happy with.  

“You owe me dinner.” Raven says, somewhat unprofessionally sticking her tongue out.  Anya lurches to grab it with her fingers before –

“How professional of you, Congresswoman,” Anya can almost hear the smirk on Lincoln’s lips before she turns around.  Lincoln’s in a navy blue suit, holding Octavia confidently around the waist. 

When Octavia sees Raven, though she’d never admit to the sound that came out of her lips, squeals and runs to hug her. 

“Tonight just got a lot less boring.”

./././././././

Lexa hasn’t said anything since they’ve left the convention center.  She doesn’t look angry anymore, just tired. 

“So you’re running then?” Clarke asks cautiously, unsure of where to start, unsure whether or not broaching the topic is a good idea.

“The Grounder and the Arker parties are not so different Clarke.  Sure, you value technological advances and economic progression at the expense of the environment and biodiversity, but at the end of the day we all want the same thing.”

Clarke can’t help the slight laugh that escapes her lips.  Of course Lexa had to get at least one jip in there about the negatives of Arker policy. 

“And what’s that?” she murmurs.

“To improve today and to create a better future tomorrow; to create a culture of positive peace because the Gods know we’ve seen enough war.  Pike is a dangerous man.  He is not interested in showing the world a better way.” She sighs.  For someone so young, Lexa sounds so wise and, Clarke figures, for someone so young, Lexa carries an awful lot of weight on her shoulders. 

Professionally speaking, she doesn’t know much about Lexa. 

She knows she’s the Congresswoman of a poor district in Virginia.  She knows she’s a strong proponent of sustainable environmental practices – ones that have made her an enemy of the Arker party – and that she’s unwavering in her beliefs.  She knows that she’s the pride of the Grounder party, that she fights for the poor, the sick, and the uneducated and that’s about it.   

Prior to their first date, she considered looking up Lexa’s voting record or looking at her Wikipedia page, but then decided against it.  She wanted their progression to be organic.

She wants to know Lexa: the girl, not Congresswoman Woods: the de facto leader of the Grounder party. 

Her fingers keep brushing against Lexa’s as they walk and Lexa finally takes the plunge and encapsulates Clarke’s hand in hers.  Lexa’s hands are soft – softer than she thought they would be – and Clarke revels in the feeling, intertwining their fingers. 

It’s a chilly March night and Clarke feels lighter than she has in years.  Between finishing Med school and starting her residency, she hasn’t had time to feel a person for a very long time.

“What do you want to do?”

“To be honest, I’m exhausted.” Lexa brushes her thumb against the back of Clarke’s hand and Clarke hopes this isn’t Lexa hinting at the fact that she wants to go home. 

“My roommates aren’t home and my place is just a couple blocks from here.  We could change into sweats and put on a movie?”

Lexa seems deep in thought for a second.

“We can even order pizza,” Clarke says, trying to win her over. 

“You had me at sweats,” she finally responds. 

They walk hand-in-hand the couple of blocks in a comfortable silence but Clarke’s mind refuses to stay silent. 

Her mother won’t be happy with her.  She can very clearly imagine the look on her mother’s face as she walked out of the hotel with an arm around Lexa.  A mixture of confusion, anger and disappointment, most likely.   

She decides to cross that bridge when she gets there.

Her apartment is clean and she’s beyond grateful for Raven who established a weekly cleaning time.  It matched all their schedules and no excuses were accepted.  They threw on top hits of the 2000s and got to work. 

It’s a modest apartment and Lexa looks around, her eyes landing on the framed pictures in the hallway. 

“Let me get you something more comfortable.” Clarke says, leaving Lexa looking at a picture of her, Octavia and Bellamy in college.  It’s one of her favorites.  Clarke is sitting on top of a grinning Bellamy’s shoulder and Octavia is pictured mid eye roll, arms thown around his waist.   

Clarke herself changes into a pair of sweatpants and throws on a hoodie and slippers before emerging.

“You look just like him,” Lexa, who had moved a couple steps down the hall and now was looking at a picture of her and her dad from a couple summers ago, deduces.

“My mom always said I was the spitting image of him.” Clarke says, coming to stand behind her and looking at the picture fondly, nostalgia hitting her hard.

././././

Lexa comes out of the bathroom not long after, hair down and face free of make up.  She looks almost like a normal 20 something-year-old.  She settles down on the couch next to Clarke quietly, a storm brewing behind her eyes.

“You alright?”

“Pike is incorrigible, uncooperative, and disagreeable."

“He’s always been that way,” Clarke huffs in agreement before grabbing the TV remote and clicking the power button.  

"How do you know him?"

"He’s family friend. Or was, I guess. He used to be that friend from college that had some wacky views but good intentions." Besides from political functions, she hadn't seen Pike since her father died. Her mother wasn't fond of him, not since he got involved in politics, and neither was Kane.

"Not anymore?"

"My mom isn't fond of him, no. And neither am I." she pauses, catching her tongue, "Off the record."

Publicly, her mother and Pike enjoyed a symbiotic relationship and endorsed each other time and time again. 

Old loyalties run deep, she supposes. 

Lexa seems to be satisfied with her answer before rolling her eyes, "Clarke, everything between us is off the record."

"Right. I just-"

"I'm not interested in your mother or Pike, not professionally.  I'm interested in you, personally."

And then she’s looking at her and Clarke forgets how to form a coherent sentence.  She tries not to look at Lexa’s lips but fails because they’re full and pink and soft and Clarke wants to feel them against her own.   

Lexa is looking at her expectantly, albeit bashfully, and Clarke realizes she’s waiting for an answer – waiting for some sort of confirmation that whatever it is that is happening between them is private and real. 

“Me too,” she is all she can muster up before clearing her throat, "Any movie preference? I have on demand."

Lexa looks slightly disappointed by the change of topic before perking up, "Have you seen the new _Star Wars_?"

"I haven't."

"Have you seen the others?" Lexa asks suspiciously, narrowing her eyes.

“Of course, I have.  My father was a big enthusiast.”

“Sounds like a good man.”

“You got that much from him being a _Star Wars_ fan?”

“Absolutely.” Her face turns serious then, “Clarke, _Star Wars_ is a saga that defined a generation." 

Clarke rolls her eyes and browses through the titles before finding _The_ _Force Awakens._    

She tries to pay attention – she really does – more for Lexa's sake than her own, but Lexa is sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning forward in anticipation.  She watches the events unfold almost with childlike wonder, her mouth slightly ajar.

"Woah," She whispers every now and again and Clarke feels her chest flutter.

Eventually, Clarke leans back and kicks her legs onto the couch and onto Lexa’s lap.  Her only acknowledgement is a beaming smile before an explosion occurs on screen and Lexa turns back, eyes wide.

She wonders how many people have seen Congresswoman Woods this way, in sweats with her hair cascading down her face, and in awe of a "classic."

Lexa looks back at her every now and again, asking, “Did you see that?"

And even though Clarke most certainly did not, she smiles anyway and agrees: "Amazing."

Clarke feels her eyes getting heavy and she yawns.  Lexa notices, breaking her trance and grabs the remote, pausing the movie.

"You're tired. I should go."  She says, making a move to herself off the couch.  Clarke doesn't mean to react as quickly as she does but before she knows, she’s sitting up and her hand is reaching out and grabbing Lexa's forearm.

"No," she murmurs, pulling her back down, wrapping her arms around Lexa’s midsection and lying her head down on Lexa's thighs, "finish the movie and stay. It's late." 

Lexa's silent for a long time and Clarke wonders if she's crossed a line.  She's scared to look up and gauge Lexa’s reaction.  Just as she’s about to release her and apologize, she feels Lexa sink back into the couch and hit play. 

Just as she’s starting to drift away, she feels soft fingers in her hair and gentle nails on her scalp.  She sighs contently and buries her face further into the warmth of Lexa’s stomach.  Lexa has turned down the volume on the TV and all Clarke hears is a low buzz in the background.

“What was he like?”

“Who?”

“Your dad.”

“He was kind and warm.  I was a lot closer to him than I ever was with my mother.  He always made time for me, always, even though he was an environmental engineer.”

Lexa ears perk up at that and Clarke, in her sleep-like state, cannot contain her loopy grin, “You remind me of him, actually.”

././././././.

Lexa wakes up to the smell of coffee.  She stretches, groaning as her neck aches, evidently not happy with the way she slept.  She looks at her watch – 6:07am.

Clarke is holding onto her shirt and curled into a ball.  She's snoring lightly and the way the sun is hitting the back of her head, makes her messy blonde curls look almost golden.

She's not the type to spend the night.  Hell, she's not the type to be even put into a situation where she would spend the night.  And yet, with Clarke sleeping in her lap she didn’t have the heart to disturb her and call a cab. 

There are two blankets covering them and the TV is off, and Lexa doesn't remember doing either of those things.

She hears someone clearing their throat and has to restrain herself from jumping up when she sees one unfamiliar and one completely too familiar figure in the kitchen. 

"Good morning, Commander."  Anya whispers and Anya's companion chuckles quietly.

"Commander?" The woman asks, her hair pulled into a loose pony tale.   

"We've been calling her that long before she took office.”

"Clarke will love that." 

They’re both in their PJs still.  And the sight of Anya, an avid Batman fan, wearing a Superman shirt almost makes Lexa laugh.  Her hair is a mess and she looks far more relaxed than Lexa has seen her in years. 

“Yeah, you know what else she'll love-"

Lexa shushes her and gets up before Anya has time to share more embarrassing tales, God knows there’s many.  When you grow up with someone there’s no way for there not to be.  She's careful, making sure not to disturb Clarke with her movement.  She untangles Clarke's hand from her shirt and gently places a pillow underneath her head.

The girl huffs in protest at what Lexa perceives as the loss of warmth.  Lexa covers her with the blanket before turning to the two women in the kitchen, watching her intently – Anya especially. 

"Hey, I'm Raven.  Clarke's roommate and best friend extraordinaire."  Raven offers a hand.  Lexa takes it and shakes it before introducing herself, “Lexa.  You’re the engineer I've been hearing so much about?"

"The one and only." Raven answers, a cocky grin spreading from cheek to cheek before turning to Anya, "Have you been talking about me a lot?"

It's meant to come off as teasing but Lexa feels the underlying seriousness in the question.

"All the time." Lexa takes it as her turn embarrass Anya and responds as the older girl sips on her coffee, eyes avoiding Raven's.

It’s so odd, watching the two interact.  And Lexa's not sure Anya's ever even been in a relationship.  Sure, there were times Anya barged into their shared apartment at ridiculous times of the night, sometimes with boys, sometimes with girls.  But Lexa never met any of them.  Anya never spoke of them besides, when Lexa asked on occasion: “how were they?”  And Anya answered with a curt: “A good fuck.”

Eventually Lexa stopped asking.  Until Anya started disappearing more and more from the apartment at night and Lexa knew very well Anya never slept over at any of her conquests’ houses.

It wasn’t until one day when they were at lunch that Anya took a deep breath and declared:

_I’ve been seeing someone and I’m happy._

_What’s –_

_I don’t want to talk about it, not until I’m sure it’ll last.  I just wanted you to know._

_Okay._

And yet, there must have been something about Raven that drew her in and kept her from running. 

Maybe sort of like Clarke. 

"Damn, Bennett. You're going soft on me?" The engineer teases, leaning up on her tip toes to place a soft kiss at the edge of Anya’s lips. 

"Never." Anya snorts in response before pointing to Lexa, “her, on the other hand –”

"Do not bring me into this."

./././././.

“She’s pretty.”

“Who?’ Lexa asks, not really paying attention to Anya's babbling, as she places the four cups of coffee she just bought into a coffee tray, figuring Lincoln and Octavia will need the pick me up. 

“Congresswoman Nyman.”  Anya says sarcastically, nodding her head in the direction of the older woman in the pink pantsuit, sitting a couple tables away from them. 

“Uhh – yeah, she’s pretty,” Lexa turns around frowning as she takes in the woman’s appearance.  Nevertheless, she agrees, slightly confused, before turning back to Anya. 

“You’re an idiot.”

“You were talking about Clarke.” Lexa says, the realization dawning on her. 

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, she’s pretty.”

“That’s it?  That’s all I get?”

Lexa sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.  She hasn’t thought about it, not really.  She’s thought about the way Clarke's lips felt on her cheek, she thought about Clarke’s hand gripping her waist, she thought about the calm way her chest rose and fell as she slept and the poignancy in her voice whenever she spoke about her dad. 

She thought about Clarke, she just didn’t think about what thinking about Clarke meant. 

“Lexa, you haven’t been with anyone since Costia.  Whether or not you want to admit it, this is a big deal.”

Anya’s right – she usually is – but no way in hell would Lexa ever admit that either. 

Clarke is… she hasn’t really figured out how to finish that sentence.  She feels comfortable around her, almost liberated of her duties in her presence, younger somehow.    

“I don’t want to talk about it, not until I’m sure it’ll last.” Lexa echoes the older woman’s words as Anya’s eyes narrow.

“Touché.”


	4. Young Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! 
> 
> JFC, what in the hell has happened to this show? Fuck cannon, am I right or am I right? First Lexa, now Lincoln? Let's kill the best characters and call it a day. Talk about poor writing choices. 
> 
> Anyway, let's escape to the world of the living. 
> 
> Thank you for all your kudos and reviews, they are appreciated. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“Fuck, I know I put Advil in here somewhere,” Anya fusses as she pushes around the contents of her brief case before pulling out a bottle triumphantly.  She struggles opening it before tipping it over to pour herself a handful just so as Lexa happens to brake – hard – and all the pills tumble out of their container and onto the floor.    

Anya’s head snaps up to see… nothing.  There is not a stop light or car around them for meters.  Lexa snickers loudly from beside her and Anya shoots her a look.  

“You little shit.”

“Clean that up before you get out of my car,” Lexa deadpans, briefly looking at Anya and feigning innocence, before turning her sights back to the road. 

Anya grumbles but says nothing as she picks up two brown tablets off the ground, wipes them against her black blazer, and pops them into her mouth, swallowing them down with black coffee. 

“That cannot be sanitary.” Lexa pipes in, voice colored with mirth.  She’s in a playful and uncharacteristically good mood and Anya has a hunch as to why. 

“Drive slower,” she retorts as she inclines her seat all the way back and kicks her legs up to rest atop Lexa’s dashboard.  The younger girl narrows her eyes and considers pushing Anya’s feet off but lets it slide for the time being. 

“If you have a problem with my driving you should have taken your own car.” Lexa retorts, showing her no sympathy as she takes a sharp left.

“Jesus Christ, stop yelling.” Anya pleads, pushing dark sunglasses high on her nose and bringing a hand to her head.  Lexa can’t help but roll her eyes, knowing without a doubt that Anya’s night of clubbing with the gang is to blame.

It’s a quiet Friday morning and while Lexa should be focused on the road all she can think of is blonde curls, soft skin, and blue eyes.     

_After Lexa declined Anya’s invitation to hit up the club scene – even though the older girl emphasized Clarke would be there at least four times –  her phone lit up with Clarke’s name and picture._

_It was a selfie of her smiling wide, with her tongue poking out just slightly between her teeth._

_It took Lexa three rings and two deep breaths to build up the courage to answer the phone._

_“It’s too nice of a night to spend inside.” Clarke declared._

_Her solution: outdoor mini-golf._

_Lexa may have fibbed slightly, insisting that she loved golf and was somewhat of an expert._

_“Do you even know what a golf club looks like?” Anya had snorted from inside the bathroom, as she applied her eye liner._

_Lexa had dismissed her because how hard could it really be._

_“I thought you were a pro,” Clarke grins as she leans against the wooden fence, her arms crossed on top of her club.  She’s wearing a leather jacket and her hair is down and Lexa’s not sure she’s ever seen anyone more beautiful._

_The truth is Lexa’s never played real golf, let alone mini-golf and – continuing this streak of truthfulness – she may have underestimated the difficulty of getting a ball in a hole._

_And maybe, just maybe, if Clarke wasn’t around she might have an easier time concentrating on the actual game._

_“I am,” Lexa grumbles and steadies her hips, lining up her putter with the hole, like she’s seen on TV._

_She hits the ball and it’s on the right path, it’s almost in, it – it rolls right past the hole._

_Lexa blinks and Clarke bursts out laughing._

_And Lexa figures that maybe, just maybe, she can swallow her utter hatred of losing just to hear that laugh.  She ignores her pride screaming at her to do better, to be better, and allows the sound of Clarke’s laughter to douse her._

_For the first time in a long time she doesn’t feel the weight of her responsibilities bringing her to her knees.  She’s just a kid in her 20s that just so happens to suck at mini-golf._

_“You’re moving your wrists too much.” Clarke says, suddenly close.  Lexa gulps as the shorter girl comes to stand slightly behind her, her front pressing into Lexa’s back, and her fingers move to steady Lexa’s wrists.  Her chin rests atop Lexa’s shoulder and if she just turned her head…_

_She shivers as fingertips glide across her forearm._  

“Oh shit,” slips out of Anya’s mouth and she sits up, grimacing.  Her eyes are moving as fast as her mouth, jumping form word to word.

“What?” Lexa asks, leaning over and trying to get a glimpse of the article Anya is now hunched over and reading carefully.  

Anya dismisses her with the wave of a hand.  

She’s nervous.  Extremely nervous but if anything dire happen, they would have been notified.  They would have known.  Even if they couldn’t have been reached, she would have gotten a breaking news update. 

“Anya.” She tries again, stretching her neck, but Anya – without so much as looking at her –catches her cheek with her hand and swats her head back in the direction of the road. 

“Nothing, just keep your eyes on the road, stupid.”

She’s relieved, slightly.  If it were matters of national security, Anya would have told her right then and there.

It could be anything really.  It could be Pike officially announcing.  Or it could be someone retiring.  Or it could be the threat of armed conflict.  Or it could be a terrorist group.  Or a rogue state could have declared war or, or...

Lexa speeds the whole way to work.

“Young love? How cliché, don’t you think?” Anya finally says, when they arrive at the Capital building, and throws a copy of the DC Times onto Lexa’s lap. 

The picture on the cover catches her attention immediately. 

On the front cover, in the bottom corner, there’s a photograph of her and Clarke just a couple blocks away from Clarke’s apartment.  They’re walking close and Lexa remembers the moment vividly.  They were holding hands and while – in the photo – their faces are clearly visible, their hands aren’t and Lexa breaths a sigh of relief. 

“Well, that’s certainly…” she pauses, “unexpected.”

“It’s like something you’d read in Tiger Beat or J14 or one of those trashy teen magazines.  What respectable news paper writes shit like this?” Anya shakes her head in disbelief, looking at Lexa expectantly, looking for some sort of rise, some display of anger.  

Lexa sighs, getting out of the car and grabbing her brief case from the back seat before turning back to the newspaper.

 _Congresswoman Lexa Woods and Congresswoman Griffin’s daughter (Clarke Griffin) were spotted last night around 10:00 pm, wandering the streets of Washington DC.  The pair was seen entering Ms. Griffin’s apartment and was not seen leaving that night.  Is young love blossoming between the two or is it strictly business?_

_Whatever it is, it sure is an upgrade from Congressman Pike’s chief of staff – Bellamy Blake, who was reached but refused to comment._

Fuck.

 _Congresswoman Woods fornicating with Congresswoman Abby Griffin’s daughter_ may as well have been the title. 

Fantastic. 

Phenomenal.   

“How is it that you can go clubbing and be photographed by no one but I leave the house and all of a sudden DC Times has a picture of me on the front cover?” Lexa asks, half in annoyance half in disbelief.   

“Maybe they knew where to look.”

She has every intention of asking Anya what exact she means by that until she remembers the scowl on Pike’s face when Clarke’s hand slid around her waist, the utter disgust in his eyes.

She remembers Bellamy’s eyes never leaving them until they walked out the front door. 

Pike could have people watching her, watching both of them.  She feels guilt building in her gut and only finds relief in the fact that Pike would never hurt Abby’s daughter. 

Or so she hopes.   

“What will Indra say?” Lexa wonders though she feels her response will be far from positive.  

So quickly her actions will be labeled as irresponsible, careless, and thoughtless.  What kind of dedicated and accountable member of Congress spent their work nights promenading around at 12:00am with her colleague’s daughter.

Indra was not fond of making news cycles, something Lexa – whether she liked it or not – had a knack for.  Being the youngest member of Congress came with a great amount of scrutiny. 

Indra made it very clear when she prepped them to run - and long before - that they would not be deviants; they would not get drunk in public, nor would they elicit in illegal services, nor would they bring any shame to the party name. 

_One transgression and you’re out._

She said that to Anya and she said that the Lexa.  She’ll say it to Lincoln and Octavia one day too.  Indra was hell bent on creating and maintaining a respectable party label.  She would not have them acting like delinquents, like spoiled and privileged Arkers. 

“Honestly? Probably something along the lines of ’how is this any of my concern?’” Anya responds, mocking Indra’s annoyed tone and rolling her eyes animatedly. 

Lexa cocks her head in confusion and then the older girl grows serious, “Lexa, you’ve been different.”

“What do you mean?” Her head snaps up and she doesn’t mean to sound defensive but she does.  She knows she does by the way Anya’s lips purse. 

“I don’t mean that in a bad way, Lexa.” Anya clarifies, “You look happy.  And I think she sees that – we all do.”

And Anya doesn’t _do_ gentle and she doesn’t _do_ sweet and she most certainly doesn’t _do_ sentimental. 

She does sarcastic and sardonic and harsh.    

And yet here she is, looking at Lexa with such kindness in her eyes, “Clarke’s a good girl.  Your parents would be proud.”

It’s a rarity that they let themselves be so vulnerable around each other but if not with each other, who else?

And Lexa doesn’t know if its because she’s exhausted or because Anya started it but she sighs and allows herself to feels the familiar drop of her stomach at the mention of her parents.   

“I miss them,” Lexa says in an unusual moment of honesty and openness.  She does.  She wonders if they’d approve of who she became.

“I know,” Anya nods, reaching out and grabbing her hand, offering a slight squeeze.

Standing in the middle of the hallway, watching their colleagues pass them by, it’s too much for her and she needs to change the subject, clearing her throat and asking, “You think Titus will be pissed?” 

“ALEXANDRIA WOODS.” Comes the booming voice of her deputy chief of staff.  She looks up, watching him all but run towards them with the paper in his hands. 

“There’s your answer and that’s my cue.”  Anya grins, offering a wave before quickly turning the opposite way away from Lexa’s office. 

“What is the meaning of this.  Alexandria, you should –”

She doesn’t hear much after that.  She nods every now and again but says nothing as they walk towards her office at the far end of the hall.  Titus looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel, or seven.  By the time they walk through her office doors he’s still talking, something about love and something about weakness.

She's known him for years - they all have - and he means well, he always does.  It's his old Congressional seat that she's sitting on and with his help, too.  Lexa knows he's just looking out for her but he's a little on the dramatic side - even for her. 

Lincoln's sitting in the office right outside of hers, eyes barely open and head propped up on his hand.  As soon as he hears them, he shoots up and Lexa doubts it's her presence that causes him too jump.  

“At ease, Lincoln.” She jokes and he nods, grumbling something unintelligible that sounds a lot like ‘I'm too hungover for this shit’  and 'why did you bring him here,' before resting his head on his hand and closing his eyes.  He doesn't dare say anything.  

“Are you listening to me, Alexandria?” Titus snaps and Lincoln doesn't bother opening his eyes.  For someone who can do no wrong in the eyes of most the party, Lexa sure did a lot of it in Titus' eyes. 

“Huh?  Oh, yes,” she responds, sorting through her mail absentmindedly.  She wonders if Clarke knows about the article and what she might think of it.  More importantly, she wonders if Congresswoman Griffin knows. 

Titus is not showing any signs of letting up and she has a feeling this is going to be one of those talks, the ones where he talks at her for the better part of the hour and then doesn’t let it go for the next three months.  Like when he found out she had a motorcycle.  Her office, for months, was decorated with pictures of motorcycle crashes and facts about the dangers of motorcycles.    

“Lincoln?  Could you call Marcus and tell him I’ll have to cancel our coffee today.  It seems I signed up for a lecture I was unaware of.”

“Lec – Lecture?” The veins in his neck pop and Lexa swears his eye is twitching, “You think this is funny?  This is –”

And he loses her again. 

Lincoln catches her eye and raises a brow in confusion.  He tunes into their conversation, or rather Titus’ instruction before having a eureka moment and sorting through the newspapers on the desk.  He comes across the DC times and raises it up in question.

Lexa nods and he grins in understanding. 

“Titus, this can’t be good for your health.” Lincoln smirks but it falls quickly when Titus turns his sights to him.  He realizes his mistake almost immediately.    

“And you!” The older man yells, pointing to Lincoln accusingly.

“Me?” The man whispers wordlessly, pointing a finger to his chest.

“You are encouraging this behavior!  You and your gang of booze loving –”

It’s an hour before the phone finally rings.  Lincoln and Lexa both lunge for it, Lincoln’s fingers engulf it first and he refuses to hand it over to Lexa, bringing it to his ear immediately.

“Congresswoman Woods' office, help if you can.  I mean, how can I help you?”  Lexa tries to keep the chuckle from escaping but she fails and when it does Titus shoots her a disapproving look and she clears her throat, looking away immediately. 

“Oh, thank god.” Lincoln breathes in relief before putting the phone down and grinning at Titus, “Anya needs you in her office.”

“Oh, good.  I have been meaning to have a talk to her about keeping her hands to herself at work functions,” he grumbles before leaving the two, Lincoln with his head in his hands and Lexa slouched in her chair with her legs on the desk. 

"Did you at least get it in?"

"No."

"Bummer."

./././././././

Clarke wakes up to 3 missed calls from her mother. 

She calls her back immediately, knowing very well Abby doesn’t call her unless something requires her attention or her presence is needed somewhere.

“Clarke Elizabeth Griffin.”  Her mother all but shrieks from the other end of the phone.  Oh how she missed that voice.

“Good morning to you, too.” She grumbles, kicking her legs over the corner of her bed and stretching her sore muscles.  Of course her mother would pick 8:00 am on the day she doesn't start until 11:00 to give her a call. 

“Have you absolutely lost your mind?”  Is Abby’s next line and it’s not the first time Clarke’s been at the receiving end of said rhetorical question.

“This is going to be one of those conversation, isn’t it? One of those I-can’t-believe-you’re-doing-this-to-me conversations?” Clarke groans, rising from the warmth of her bed and shuffling to the kitchen to find a neatly written post-it on her counter top.

_Clarke,_

_Thank you for letting me stay the night.  I had to leave early for work.  I hope to see you soon._

_\- Lexa_

She tunes out her mother as she reads, smiling slightly at the heart next to Lexa’s name and recalling the events of the previous night.

_“It’s late.”_

_It’s also an excuse.  She’s not worried about Lexa getting home safe, not per se.  Lexa has body guards and private escorts and her car is parked down the street.  Clarke could stand on the steps of her apartment complex and watch Lexa get into her car if she wanted to._

_“Clarke, it’s fine.  I don’t want to impose.”  She looks shy and unsure and the way she’s shifting her weight from foot to foot is the least intimidating thing Clarke has seen in her life._

_“Please, I insist.” She husks, grabbing Lexa’s hand and leading her up the stairs.  Lexa follows without so much as another word._

She’s busy remembering how Lexa’s bare legs felt against her own and it isn’t until she hears Lexa’s name tumble from Abby’s lips that she starts paying attention to the phone call.

“Wait, what?”

“Have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying, Clarke?”

“I plead the fifth?”

She’s met with silence and she knows somewhere, a couple blocks away, Abby is tempted to bang her head against her mahogany desk.  

Clarke hears her phone buzz and opens her texts.  It’s a text from Abby that contains a picture of her and Lexa just two streets away from her apartment and a link to an article titled “Young Love?”

Her curiosity gets the better of her and she clicks the link while Abby goes on.   

She wonders if Lexa has heard yet and she figures if her mother has, the news has certainly reached other members of Congress.  She feels dread settle in her stomach, hoping Lexa will not suffer any repercussions from their outing. 

She opens up Lexa’s name in her texts and her thumbs hover above the numbers before she decides she has no idea what to say and exists out, putting the phone back to her ear.

“Well?”  Abby asks impatiently.

“Well, what?”

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Well it certainly has nothing to do with business.” Clarke snorts, knowing very well her mother will be less than satisfied with her answer.

“Clarke.”

“Shouldn’t you be relieved?  It’s not like I’m endorsing her or anything.” She responds, pouring herself a bowl of cereal and taking a seat at her kitchen table.

“Clarke, you have no idea how this looks.”

“How does it look, mother?”

“Like the two of you are sleeping together.” Abby says bluntly and Clarke feels like a dog backed up in a corner. 

She’s ready to bite.   

She wants to tell Abby how good of a fuck Lexa is or how hard she made her cum the night before or how Lexa made her scream in the hotel bathroom or any other vulgar thought that enters her brain.

She shivers at the thought.

And decides to settles on something a little more PG-13, “Come on, mom.  You told me a lady doesn’t kiss until the third date.”

“This is not a joke, Clarke.”

“We haven’t slept together.”

 _Unfortunately_ , Clarke adds in her head and then _yet._

“I don’t care who you sleep with Clarke, I only ask that you keep it private, especially if it’s one of my colleagues.” Abby sighs – knowing very well there’s no point in arguing with her daughter. 

When Abby falls silent, most likely deep in thought, Clarke’s cheerios crunch in her mouth.  She fell asleep with Lexa pressed against her front and brown curls on her cheek; she’s not sure she slept so sound in years.

“Are you going to Kane’s fundraiser this weekend?” Abby finally asks and Clarke rolls her eyes.  Business as usual.  Never ‘how’s residency’ or ‘any exciting surgeries’ or ‘are you happy?’

“Yeah, Kane invited me.”  He was a good man, better than her mother, and years ahead of most of his party.  She was fond of him.   

So it’s not the invitation that surprises her, it’s her mother’s next words: “You should bring Lexa.”

“What?”

“Bring Lexa.  Kane would love that.  Actually, I’m sure he’s already invited her.” She says, her mood suddenly picking up and Clarke feels the grin on the other side of the line. 

“You literally just bitched at me for being seen with her,” Clarke says suspiciously.  It’s her mother and she shouldn’t be distrustful of her.  She shouldn’t doubt the pureness of her intentions but something about her mom’s request nags at her, something about it makes her feel uneasy.

It’s not personal.  Of course it’s not.  It’s not like Abby has any interest in getting to know Lexa or why Clarke has taken an interest in her. 

“It’ll look better if we are all seen together and getting along.”  

It hurts, more than Clarke would like to admit.

It seems logical.  It would seem to the public that Abby is both aware and supportive of their relationship, not to mention it would imply she’s had prior knowledge of it.

It makes complete political sense until Abby adds, “Oh and Clarke? Be careful.”

And before Clarke has the opportunity to ask what she means by _be careful,_ Abby disconnects the line.  She’s left with the dial tone and her own thoughts. 

She sighs and traces Lexa’s note with her finger tips.

./././././ 

_We need to talk. Now._

Octavia stares at the screen indifferently before hearing the commotion down the hall.

“Hey, you can’t go in there.” Someone yells before adding, “I’m calling security.”

“Like hell I can’t, she’s my sister.”

In 3, 2, 1…

Bellamy comes bursting through the doors of her office.  He’s fortunate, really.  Indra would not stand for such rude interrupts, especially not those of angry Arkers.  If she were here, he’d be escorted out in handcuffs before he stepped two feet into her office.

“Since when do you work for Indra?” He all but growls, his eyes searching for her. 

“That’s Congresswoman Silva to you.”  Octavia responds, not the least bit intimidated by her brother’s display of aggression. 

“Congresswoman Silva?” He spits, mocking her, “Are you fucking kidding me? I begged for Abby to give you a job and you left her office to work for Indra?  Do you have any idea how that makes me look?”

“Do you care about anyone but yourself anymore?  You don’t even work for the Arker party, you work for Pike.” She shoots back and he’s taken aback by her words.  She was never one to fight back, at least not with her legs atop her desk, filling her finger nails in her own office.

Politically speaking, she was practically his equal now, something he wasn’t used to.

“After everything we’ve done for you, this is how you repay us?”

That’s what it takes for Octavia to snap.  She’s on her feet instantly and she’s fuming, “What?  What did the party ever do for us?  Tell me, Bellamy.  This party is the reason our mom killed herself.  This party –”

“I hope I’m not disturbing anything.”  Octavia is cut off by a calm murmur.  If she didn’t recognize the voice she may have missed it completely.

Lexa, knowing very well she is, leans against the door frame.  She looks nothing if not unamused.  

There are hot tears streaming down Octavia’s cheeks and this is not how she planned to end her first week at work.  This is not how she wanted Congresswoman Woods to see her as – an immature, overly emotional kid.

“My sister and I were just talking,” Bellamy says through gritted teeth.  He was seething, his fists clenching and unclenching and suddenly Octavia was worried, not for herself but for Lexa.  

“I’m afraid your conversation will have to be cut short.  I am in need of Octavia’s guidance.”  She says, meeting Octavia’s eyes, and nodding towards the door.  Lexa doesn’t look concerned in the least bit at her brother’s outburst and in that the younger girl finds comfort.  She walks towards Lexa but as she passes Bellamy he grabs her arm.   

“We are not finished talking.”

“Get the fuck off me.”  Octavia spits, seeing red, and ripping her arm out of his grasp before pushing him, hard.

She then feels herself being pulled back by the helm of her shirt.  In the time it took for Bellamy to grab her arm, Lexa had crossed the room, and put herself in between them.

Lexa’s face remains stoic but her voice drips with anger and something far more sinister, something Octavia can’t quite place, “I’m afraid you are done, Mr. Blake.” 

She is standing dangerously close to him and in an instant grabs Bellamy’s collar, bringing him to close to her face, “If you ever touch your sister, or any woman like that again, it will be the last time you have use of that hand.”

Bellamy’s eyes widen as she lets him go and he looks down at his hands instantaneously and Octavia’s no longer worried for Lexa, she’s worried for Bellamy.

As Lexa releases his collar he stumbles back and his eyes widen, in horror, “Fuck. Octavia, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.  You know I’m not that guy.”

He didn’t used to be.  The Bellamy she, Raven, and Clarke loved would rather cut his hand off than manhandle any woman.  He stood up to men like that.  He fought men like that on more than one occasion. 

Octavia pretends she doesn’t hear him as she follows Lexa out of the office.  

“That wasn’t me,” he starts after them, his voice just above a whisper, “that’s not who I am.”

Octavia ignores the pang in her chest. 

./././././././.

She feels numb as she follows Lexa out of the Capital Building.  Sure, her and Bellamy rough housed.  Sure, they fought and punched and sparred together on multiple occasions.  Not once had they sported black eyes from their training sessions.    

There was something different about him though.  Something animalistic, something not entirely under control.  

And she can only find two people to blame: Pike and Bellamy himself.

“Italian or Mexican?” is what brings her out of her thoughts. 

“Mexican,” Octavia answers automatically, before finally looking to meet Lexa’s eyes.  Lexa senses her confusion and motions to the Taco place they’re standing outside of.  Octavia’s stomach growls in agreement.

“This is one of my favorite taco places,” Lexa says as they stand in line and Octavia, for once, appreciates the small talk.

Lexa doesn’t ask her about Bellamy and she doesn’t ask about their mother.  She asks her about her first week in the office and if she had a good night with Lincoln, Anya, and Raven.  She tells her an anecdote about her car ride with Anya and Octavia’s not sure – prior to this – her and Lexa had ever had a one-on-one conversation. 

She’s kind and she’s smart and she doesn’t push.  She takes what Octavia offers and Octavia sees what Clarke sees.

“Can I ask you something somewhat personal?”  Lexa asks, catching her somewhat off guard.  Truthfully, she didn’t know Lexa could do personal.

Octavia didn’t know much about her aside from what Lincoln and sometimes Indra let slip. 

Besides knowing that Anya and her were inseparable since childhood and that Indra took both of them under her wing after Anya interned for her, all she knew was that Lexa was the young, untouchable genius of the Grounder party. 

“Sure,” Octavia says cautiously, expecting a question about Bellamy. 

“How long have you known Clarke?” She asks instead and Octavia’s feels a weight lifted off her chest.

“Since we were wee lads,” Octavia starts mocking an Irish brood, which earns her a raise of the brown before Lexa cracks a slight smile.  Octavia takes it as a victory and continues, “We grew up together.  She’s a couple years older than me so by the time I was born her and Bellamy were already inseparable.  Her and I didn’t get close until my mom died.”

“I’m sorry.  I know what that’s like.” Octavia’s head snaps up and Lexa meets her eyes before continuing, “losing a parent.  I lost both of mine, too.”

Her mouth hangs slightly ajar, surprised at Lexa’s decision to disclose something so personal.  And then she doesn’t feel pity but she feels sympathy, laced with understanding. 

“I’m sorry,” she offers, knowing very well apologies matter so little when you’re young and you’re scared and you’ve lost your world. 

“It’s in the past.” Lexa shurgs before rolling up her sleeves and taking her taco into her hands and biting into it.  It spills out the side and onto the plate.   

“How long have you known Lincoln?”  Octavia asks, not wanting to cross any sorts of lines between boss and employee, but taking a leap.

“Since we were wee lads.”  She answers with a wink and Octavia grins, who would have thought the Congresswoman had a sense of humor.

“Lincoln and I went to the same elementary school.  He’ll tell you otherwise, I’m sure, but I saved his ass on a multitude of occasions.”

“Oh?”

“He used to be this skinny little kid with thick glasses.”  Lexa recollects fondly.  He hadn't really grown into his skin until college.  None of them had, she thinks, with the exception of Anya who was always the epitome of 'cool.'

“No.” Octavia gasps, having a hard time imagining her heavily muscled boyfriend with thick glasses.

“I have proof.  I’ll show you next time you stop by the apartment.” It’s an invitation and Octavia feels like part of the group.  For the first time in, well, for the first time in her life Octavia feels like she belongs and it’s a lovely feeling.  

Octavia’s phone goes off and she looks at Lexa expectantly, biting her lip, nonverbally asking for permission.  Lexa rolls her eyes in response, “You’re not at work, Octavia, and I’m not your boss.  Answer it.”

She nods in appreciation before sliding the green button and putting her phone to her ear, “Yes, okay. I’ll be right there.  See you soon, babe.”

“Lincoln?”

“Yes, he’s just about to leave the office and we are going to the gym together.”

“You like it then; I take it?  MMA?”

“Holy shit, I love it.” She says enthusiastically.  It taught her discipline and patience and it allowed her to channel her anger into something useful. 

“Kick his ass.  He’s weak on the left.” Lexa looks at her with pride in her eyes.  Octavia grins, nodding enthusiastically and grabbing her purse.

“Octavia, before you go, I do have a final question. Which hospital does Clarke work at?”

././././././

She arrives at DC General a little past 5:00pm and stands outside for at least 20 minutes.

She hates hospitals. 

The last time she was inside a hospital, she was watching her parents die.  She was hearing the doctor say there’s nothing we can and taking her mother off life support.

She feels uneasy, stepping through the doors, but she wills herself to do so.  Knowing very well she might miss Clarke is she doesn’t get it together.

She may have been a little extra, buying Clarke a rose, but what can she say, she’s a romantic.  When she reaches the front desk, a woman with long light brown hair and a headband looks her up and down.

“Can I help you with something?”

“Clarke Griffin?  Could you page her for me?”

Some sort of realization seems to dawn across the girl’s face as she nods as she dials Clarke’s number on the phone, “You the one who sent her flowers?” 

And while Lexa wants to respond with, “it’s none of your business” or “why is that of concern with you?” she reminds herself this is most likely a colleague if not a friend of Clarke’s.

“That’s so cute.” She gushes, bringing her hands up to hug her chest.

Lexa can’t help but scrunch her nose at that.  She was not “cute.”  She was a serious and dangerous and intimidating Congresswoman, not “cute.”

She could feel the woman – Harper, as her name tag indicated – watching her closely as she strode away from the desk.  When the elevator opened, a tired look Clarke, clad in light blue scrubs emerged. 

As soon as their eyes met, Clarke perks up and hurries her pace.

As she gets closer, Clarke throws her arms around her neck and Lexa pulls her in.  She smells like hospital, and Lexa hates hospitals, but when Clarke’s cheek touches Lexa’s all her uneasiness melts away and she falls into the embrace.

Lexa is the first one to pull away.  She smiles, grabbing Clarke’s bag from her hand and smiling.

“Tell me about your day."

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I'm officially taking prompts. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr --> justmenotwe
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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